The Mind of Rose Weasley
by twinley
Summary: Four days after receiving her Hogwart's letter, Rose Weasley goes shopping for school supplies with her family in Diagon Alley. These are her thoughts on her family, parents, the war, and anything else on her mind.


**A/N: So I am not sure where this came from, it just kind of wrote itself. I imagine Rose to be very bright for her age, like her mother. So this is all in her point of view. This happens a couple of days after she receives her acceptance letter from Hogwarts. She is shopping in Diagon Alley with her family for school supplies, when this story takes place. She is in the store Flourish and Blotts in this story. So, these are some random thoughts that she has. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: All the characters and various aspects pertaining to the Harry Potter enterprise belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling!**

The fresh smell of parchment made my nose flare outwards as I walked into the once bustling store of Flourish and Blotts. Nowadays, people would rather get their books delivered to them via owl post. But not me; I like having the option of choosing my book from the others based on cover, binding, or word size. Plus, the feeling of purchasing a book with your hard earned money is another advantage.

The bell rang as the door went back into its wooden frame. I am still amazed that this was one of the few stores that made it through the Second War. I know all about that War. What kid doesn't? But me especially! Both my parents contributed to the war in a significant way, and are, therefore, constantly in the spotlight; even if they didn't defeat Voldemort directly. I know, I know, I must be big and brave for saying the real name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name. But that's not true. My mum always told me that "fear in the name only increases fear in the thing itself." Pretty deep right? But come on, the guy isn't alive anymore! There is no good reason for his name to be whispered and/or shuddered at.

But that's mum: always the smart and wise one. The history books often claim that she was the thinking force behind the Golden Trio, and was the reason why they could accomplish what they did. The textbooks continue on by saying that she was the brightest witch of her time. But, whenever I bring this up to her, she just gives me a small smile and says something modest along the lines of "there were other smart people too!" Or, "they are only saying that to be nice!"

I think it is sad that I have to rely so much on those books to learn about my parents and uncle's history. They never seem to want to give me the full story. Sure, they mentioned stuff such as "we left school and camped out." But they always seem to leave out something. There is no way that there only problem was trying to figure out what plants were edible and which ones weren't.

Then they go on claiming that I am not "old enough" or "mature enough!" Well isn't that a bunch a washed-up hippogriff poo? They say that when I get older they will tell me the whole story. That probably isn't even true. They will probably tell me what they had for Christmas dinner or some minute detail like that.

I want to know what _really_ happened! I want to know what creatures they fought, how many death eaters they killed, how many lives they saved! You know, the heroic stuff! I'm sick of hearing them day that it was their "duty" and that they couldn't tell anybody where they were going or what they were doing. If it was me, I would want all the help I could get in order to get things accomplished faster; it's only logical!

That is why I try to indulge myself in as many books as I can in order to find the missing pieces in their story. I know in the back of my mind that the only people that know all that happened are the people that are currently being held up outside of the store, being hoarded by the wizarding paparazzi eighteen years later.

No one ever questions me when they see me with a new book. They just say that I remind them exactly of my mother. I take that as a huge compliment. Living up to the brightest witch, one of the famous Golden Trio members, and one of the coolest moms is no easy task. And I plan on doing my best to be just like her; top in all of my classes, finding two great best friends and having a job that I will not only love, but a job in which I can make a difference in. That's why she is my hero; she has done so much in her life, but passes it off as nothing.

But I am also like my dad in many ways too. I love joking around and flying for hours on my dad's old Cleansweep. He has been hinting that I will get my own for school now that I think about it, regardless of the rule stating that first years are not allowed a broom. Anyway, just like my dad I am deathly terrified of spiders; they are just so creepy in the way that they move!

I may look like I am book smart, but I am a huge procrastinator. I tend to leave things till the last minute, but I do well on them anyway. My grammar school friend claimed "it was just like magic" that I got my homework done the night before. How right they were.

My first sign of magic occurred when I was seven years old. I always knew that I was going to be a witch, but there was always the nagging feeling in the back of my mind that told me that I was going to be one of those rare squibs. By that age, I was doing everything that I could to bring the magic out of me. I would jump off my broom twenty feet of the ground to see if magic would cushion my fall, I would try to turn flowers different colors, I would even try to make my broccoli disappear if I stared at it long enough. Finally my magic showed in the most random of incidents.

It was during recess one day when I noticed that my classmates decided to play a game of kick-ball. One of my muggle friends, I won't name names, was picked last because he had terrible foot-eye coordination. So when it was finally his turn to kick for his team, I thought of how amazing it would be if he was able to kick a homerun just to show the others. I worked my magic so well, that the ball got stuck in a tree across the blacktop, and the kid had pulled a muscle by kicking his leg too hard. Because of this, I decided to wait until my next sign of magic before I would tell my parents.

Speaking of muggles, my mum has tried her very best to make Hugo and me fit into that world as smoothly as possible. I used to complain to her about having to go to grammar school, but now I realize how much of an asset it really was is in forming my common knowledge. It is no problem for me to write a decent paper, or to solve mathematical equations; unlike some of the other ogres at Hogwart's that my cousin Jamie has told me about.

I am just happy that I am finally going to Hogwarts! I got my letter four days ago exactly. My dad's owl, Artemis (his owl Pig had died before I was born), delivered the letter right as I was putting jam on my toast. I was so excited that I threw my toast in the air and it stuck to the ceiling! As we were eating lunch later that day, the toast actually fell onto Hugo's head, jelly first! Can you believe that he actually started crying! I was trying so hard not to laugh!

But, that is why we are in Diagon Alley as I speak, to pick up my school books and other various supplies that were stated on the many pages of parchment. If I can, I will try to sneak in a couple extra books here, and maybe some sweets on the way out!

As I now scan the titles on a history shelf concerning more modern times, I hear the door opening and the bell tinkling along with the voices of many people. I turned around to see my much worn out mother pushing hair as unruly as mine behind her ear. This is the second time this week she was bombarded. Apparently they want to get her feelings on her eldest child setting out for her first year at Hogwarts.

My one uncle, Harry, is also being interviewed a lot. But he has dealt with the reporters so much since the end of the war that he has a couple of tricks up his sleeve. He and my mum created this spell, sort of like the shield charm. It creates a specialized bubble that doesn't let a reporter within a hundred meters of him. If that spell doesn't work, he actually pulls tricks on them. How cool is that? He blacks out there camera lenses and changes their ink to clear among other things. The amazing thing is that he doesn't get into trouble either. It is either because of his famous status, the fact that he is an auror, or possibly because he is on first name basis with the minister. Take your pick; all seem to be valid choices when it comes to being the great Harry Potter.

One time I asked my dad why he and my mum only placed that spell on the house, and not on themselves. He just shrugged. Sometimes I wonder if he enjoys the perks with being famous. It definitely does have its upsides.

Sometimes we get special privileges too. Like when we walk into a magical restaurant, they always make sure that there is a table available for us and our family. And quite often they take our picture and hang the framed photo on their wall. But I try to not let it get to my head too much. If I did I could be like that snob Malfoy. All he cares about is his pure-blood status, money and power. Not at all endearing qualities if you ask me! I like the fact that one side of my family is pureblood and the other all muggles. It's like getting the best of both worlds. I get to play with all the magical toys, and go to those awesome stores. But I also get to enjoy things like the telly from the muggle world.

I like going out into the muggle world sometimes. It tends to be less stressful than that of the magical one. No one recognizes you, asks for an interview, or asks for an autograph. Speaking of autographs, people love to get my signature because I am the offspring of not one, but two members of the Golden Trio. Even if they were the so-called "sidekicks" people have given them a lot more respect once they realized what my parents went through alongside the Boy-Who-Lived.

It was funny when I learned that was his nickname. To me he was always Uncle Harry with the cool scar on his head and always messy hair. He was the great cook and the one guy that could spot a snitch quicker than anyone I have met. And trust me; my dad has taken me to as many quidditch matches as humanly possible.

Now don't tell anyone, but my favorite team isn't the Cannons. Sure I enjoy going to their games, but that is my dad and brother's team. I like watching a team that knows their stuff; teams that have flying formations, cool moves, tons of records. That is why I support the Puddlemere United. But don't tell him! The only way I will ever get a decent broom is if he believes I am love with the Cannons as much as he is.

Speaking of my father, he just apparated into the store. My brother, Hugo, must be with Aunt Ginny and Lily. My one cousin, Albus, offered to come with me here. But I told him that he would probably become bored the moment he walks into the door. That is why he is off with his brother and father to Ollivander's to get his wand.

I already have my wand, which is 11 ½ inch Rosewood, which was quite a coincidence if you ask me, and I piece of hair from the tale of a female unicorn. Ollivander's was the first stop for me after taking a trip to Gringotts.

A funny thing happened there. Whenever my family, or Uncle Harry's for that matter, goes to Gringotts, they also seem to be checked twice for Dark Magic. Our family also has to be split up into two carts. My mum and dad are always forced to be separated. Once we get down to our vault, the goblins once again do several revealing charms to make sure it is them. Then they always stand within five feet of them once we enter the vault. Is there such thing as personal space?

I am not sure if this is standard procedure. It seems rather annoying if you ask me. When I get to Hogwarts, I have to remember to ask someone if the goblins treat their families in a similar manner.

I found a pretty promising book that seems to be brand new. Its cover is facing outwards on the shelf, rather than the binding. It is titled The Truth Behind the Second War. I grab this book with my left hand and ease myself gently onto the opal carpet. I first check out the back of the book for a summary. All I can find is a short snippet about the author, who apparently loves fishing in the English Channel. I turn the book back over in my hands and softly open the front cover. I am a stickler for a smooth binding. I hate it when my book's binding gets creased or bent, it is so disturbing. The only books that I own that is like that are the books passed down to me from my mother, like Hogwarts, A History.

I hear quiet whispering to the left of me and look towards the sound from the corner of my eyes. I have successfully mastered the skill of fake reading, and sleeping if you are wondering. As I discreetly look up I can see my parents having a whispered conversation.

I think I know where I get my acting skills from. If you weren't listening for anything, you wouldn't even cast them a second glance. Sometimes when people walk by them, they wave at around their ears as if there are bugs flying around them. My parent's friend, Luna, would probably say there are Nargles in the air.

When my brother and I eavesdrop on our parents along with my cousins, my cousins always claim to hear a faint buzzing in our ears. But my brother and I never hear that. We can always hear them talking clearly. I always wondered what that was about, but I just shook it off. If that continues in Hogwarts, where I can hear things that other people can't, I will be sure to make a visit to the Hospital Wing.

My mom is casually browsing through the herbology section while my dad walks along behind her, with one hand on her waist and his face near her ear, whispering to her. You can tell when my mum is really concentrating on what you are saying. She bites her lip, cocks her head, and she always squints her eyes too. I inch my way towards them under the pretense of scanning book titles. I tuck some of my frizzy auburn hair behind my ear in order to hear them better.

That's another thing about my parents. They are always touching each other somehow. If they are walking down the street they will hold hands, or pinkies. At dinner, if one of their hands is resting on the table, then the other person will hold onto it. They will often sit together on the same chair too; like during Christmas while we are opening presents. They always claim the chair in front of the fire place, and have, according to Aunt Ginny, been doing this since they got together. One time I asked my grandma why they are always touching, and she said it was to remind themselves that the other was always there. She says that the habit was picked up when the war ended.

I don't know why, but my family is not afraid to show affection. I don't just mean my immediate family, but my whole family as well. We are always there together for everything! Whenever a family member announces that they are pregnant, or when someone has a new boyfriend or girlfriend, they are introduced in front of the entire Weasley family, and I mean _everyone!_

Not that I mind though. It's always nice to be in the know of the family gossip. Of course we kids don't hear everything, but we have learned ways to get around that. Whenever the adults go into the kitchen and close the door to talk, we take out our Premium Extendable Ears: courtesy of Uncle George.

Speaking of Uncle George, can you believe that he once had a twin brother named Fred? That was something I learned at a very young age. Whenever the wizarding world celebrates that anniversary of the War, our family is always in a somber mood. I was curious about this when I was little. Why would we, a family instrumental in the downfall of the greatest dark wizard ever, mourn on the day of his death? It just doesn't make sense.

I asked my mom that exact question when I was five. She immediately pulled me out of the room, along with Hugo, to reveal to us that many friends of theirs had died on that day as well. That included not only Teddy's parents, but my Uncle Fred as well.

I heard that he and Uncle George were the best trouble-makers at school. Ever. One time, according to dad, they created a whole swamp in one of Hogwart's hallways! They even summoned their chained brooms, and left the school to start their own joke shop. It totally sounds like something my cousin James would try to do.

Even though that is cool and everything, I wonder where they got the money. Before the war, our family wasn't very wealthy, and they would always have to get everything for school secondhand, and clothes as hand-me-downs. I am fortunate enough to not have to do that. Once the war was over and ministry was back on their feet, my parents and Uncle Harry received Order of Merlin First Class and money for defeating Voldemort and capturing many of his Death Eaters.

But let's get back on the subject of Uncle Fred. Why would my parents wait till I was five to tell me about my Uncle? I think I have a right to know who my relatives are, whether they are alive or not. When I asked how he died, my mum said that it was in the middle of the war and that she even saw it happen. However, she also said that she did not know who fired the curse, and why the wall beside them tumbled down as well.

This brings me back to the subject of finding informative books on the War. I may be a child of the Golden Trio, but that doesn't mean that I know everything that they went through. I hope that the people at school don't think I do. I have had enough interviews about my parents and Uncle Harry for a lifetime.

My parents just paused in their discussion, and take a look at me. I hope that they aren't talking about me, because it really annoys me when people talk about me behind my back. That is why I am so awful with surprises. I have to know everything about everything; I guess a trait from my mom.

I grabbed a promising navy-colored book as my parents approached me, looking nonchalant. Mum used her wand to put the books that weren't in my hands or sitting in my lap, but lying on the floor that I had sorted into piles based on amount of promise it held. My father asked if I had all my school books ready as he checked his gold watch that he had gotten on his seventeenth birthday. I nodded my head and handed over the book that was in my hand along with my other school books that the bookkeeper delivered after my mother had walked in.

My mum and the bookkeeper seem to have this odd connection, like most bookkeepers that I met do, but this one especially. She always gives my mom discounts on books, but never Uncle Harry, and he is the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice! And she always seems to have this stash of books beneath the counter that she thinks my mum might enjoy. It's kind of creepy how she knows what my mom likes to read so well.

My mum claimed that she was always extremely helpful "back in the day," and had even offered her her first job as an assistant bookkeeper. Mum, however, declined the offer in order to help out in Uncle George's joke shop along with my dad. But she always came in here on her breaks to help reshelf some items and often helped many ministry workers find the right books they needed. In return, my mom always received free books. To this day, she always gets the older books that have been there for awhile free of charge.

The old bookkeeper told me this story surprisingly. She likes to talk to me about everything when I visit and am sitting by myself. I have that way with people. Everyone always comes up to me and tells me their life story. It's bloody annoying too. It's like, I don't want to know how many times you splinched your right butt cheek on your way to work!

My parents wake me from my daze as they pull me towards the door opening up to Diagon Alley stilled filled with reporters from the _Daily Prophet_ and other newspapers and magazines. My parents tell me that they have a big surprise for me and if I don't hurry up, I will never find out what it is.

I knew they were talking about me in the book store!

**This was really fun to write, for not only was it random, but it has a little bit of me thrown in there as well. Sorry if she sounds to mature for her age, but I haven't been eleven in awhile. However, I do see her as a child mature for her age, much like Hermione was. Well I hope you enjoyed this, and please REVIEW!**

**Hearts, **

**Twinley **


End file.
